


The Treachery of Images: This is not an Eggplant

by NichePastiche



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Awkwardness, Comedic Use of Biblical Allusion, Crowley (Good Omens) Has PTSD, Crowley Doesn't know about the Eggplant Emoji, Eggplant Emoji, Emoji use, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Canon, Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), emojis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 09:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19315042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NichePastiche/pseuds/NichePastiche
Summary: Crowley doesn't understand emojis, but Aziraphale does. Crowley has an image to maintain, and the angel uses a rotary dial phone so it never mattered.Until now.Aziraphale had been making poorly thought out decisions since The Beginning. So of course he thought it a clever idea to declare his feelings for Crowley by writing a book about their lives. Only Aziraphale knows why he thought it was a good idea to write said book using only emojis.Needless to say, nothing goes according to plan and misunderstandings abound.





	The Treachery of Images: This is not an Eggplant

**Author's Note:**

> I've been a fan of Good Omens for years. If you want to say hi, you can find me @niche-pastiche on tumblr.  
> This story draws direct inspiration from an interview where David Tennant talks about recently discovering that some emojis aren't what they seem.

 

The end was over, but the world wasn't. The world was still there, and so were they. They'd been given a second chance, and they planned to make the most of it. 

Of corse, as with most plans, things would have gone more smoothly had they actually talked to one another. 

But Crowley didn't tell Aziraphale how much it now terrified him to be away from the Angel for more than a few seconds at a time. He didn't tell the Angel that he was just pretending to sleep and instead spent the whole time sitting in the Bentley, counting down the seconds before he could return to the bookshop without looking suspicious. Instead, he tried to act like everything was normal and he was completely fine. He thought he'd done a fairly convincing job of it so far.

Aziraphale had just as many things left unsaid, but he was much less inclined to leave them that way. Unlike Crowley, he'd never actually had the world destroyed around him. Aziraphale had not been alone at the airfield. Crowley had been there, at his side. Crowley had been there since the Beginning. The entire ordeal had been harder on the demon, though he tried to hide it. Aziraphale didn't say anything, but he did buy several fire extinguishers and placed them around the shop. He also pretended not to notice that the door to the bookshop had acquired several significantly more secure locks all of the sudden. He also didn't comment on the extremely unusual set of events that lead the nearest fire station to announce it was relocating to a building across the street.

Instead, Aziraphale made a plan. He made two plans, in fact. The first one was the easy part. He drew up a map of the building and primary and secondary escape routes to use in the event of a fire. He had been watching Crowley when he noticed it prominently displayed in the shop, and was able to see Crowley's shoulders relax. The second part of Aziraphale's plan was more involved, but a book seemed like the obvious choice to get the message across. He knew Crowley wasn't much of a reader, but this wouldn't require any actual reading to get the message across. If humans could do it for Herman Melville's writing, it shouldn't be to difficult for someone who had been there when humans first invented writing. Yes, that was clearly the way to go. Emojis would work. 

A gentle suggestion later, and his typewriter had gained an emoji keyboard.

With a satisfied smile, Aziraphale began typing.

For the first few pages, Aziraphale’s entirely emoji based book might be mistaken for a novelty translation of the Bible. It started with the same line, “⏮👤👉⏯👼🌏” but closer inspection quickly revealed he was not writing a religious text.

He was writing a love story.

Notable excerpts included.

“🌳🕶🐍😎🤔💬🔥🗡👼 “

and later

“ 😎😧💬🚫🌊🚸⁉️. 👼😔💬 🌊🚸.”

As the book goes on it can be observed that “👼”is slowly replaced by “😇” except when preceded by “😎😘💬”

One entire chapter is just “😇😭💬📚🔥.😎😉😘💬📚✨👼.” followed by ten pages of _almost_ entirely “😍”

It’s last page reads “ 🚫🌍🔚.😇💞😎 [🥂](https://emojipedia.org/emoji/%F0%9F%A5%82/).🎶🐦.”

Once he was done, he looked at all he had written and saw that it was good. And on the next day, he rested. The day after that, he sent it to Crowley.

* * *

 

Crowley read it.

Well, he read some of it.

Alright, he didn’t read it. What he actually did was flip through it without even looking until the 10 whole pages of heart eyes caught his attention. He wasn’t clear on this whole emoji business, but that one seemed fairly straightforward. Or maybe not? He thought he’d figured the heart eyes out. Surely the fact there was an aubergine at the end of them must have been a typo? If it had been wine he would have understood. But an aubergine? Aziraphale wasn’t nearly fond enough of vegetables to warrant that.

Loath as he was to admit to his confusion, his curiosity got the better of him when Aziraphale asked him what he thought of the book.

“It was...you know,” Crowley said, with the easily identifiable tone of one who has _not_ read the assigned material but thinks themselves clever enough to fool people. “It was,” he thought quickly, “a book.” Was it too much to hope that sounded believable? “It was very book-like,” he added, helpfully.

Aziraphale couldn’t keep the slightly hurt expression from his face. Having that look pointed in your direction reached a level of awful previously reserved for the combination of Sarah McLachlan songs and extreemy sad puppy dogs. No. He couldn’t do it. Nothing was worth that. Crowley had no choice.

The Angel was genuinely upset and it was Crowley’s fault. He didn’t have to let the Angel know he didn’t understand emojis. He’d understood the bit about the food just fine! He could talk about that. That part had at least been straightforward, even if it was a little unexpected.

“I said I’d look at it and I did,” this was not technically a lie. He remembered Aziraphale had mentioned it being some sort of autobiography or memoir or something? He cursed his past self for not paying closer attention. He still found the human practice of emoji use hopelessly confusing, but he was confident he’d understood the bit he’d read, “I had no idea you had such a strong desire regarding a certain vegetable.” Crowley couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice, “I didn’t think you would enjoy that sort of thing.” He knew the Angel didn’t dislike them, but Aziraphale wasn’t exactly going around advocating for a whole food plant based diet. Even if he probably should be, considering some of the the things Crowley had heard. The fact he’d heard about them via commendations from hell was a fact he’d kept to himself. Neither of them had to worry about that stuff personally, so he saw no need to mention it. 

Crowley watched as Aziraphale’s entire demeanor abruptly changed from disappointment to something like suspicion. “Which… Which part of the book are we talking about, specifically?” Aziraphale glanced at the ceiling, and then the floor. He then cleared his throat before seemingly pulling himself together after whatever that was about. The Angel continued “Food is a bit of a recurring theme, after all.”

Aziraphale seemed like he at least believed Crowley had intended to read it, but was unsure if he had. That was okay. Crowley could do this, and he could do it without letting the Angel know he didn’t know the first thing about emojis. He just needed a moment to think.

Crowley pretended to clean something off his sunglasses before continuing. He had to look casual. Right now, Aziraphale just thought he hadn’t read the book. If he did this right, the Angel would never suspect a thing. Crowley wouldn't have to admit he had no idea how to use those tiny pictograms. And if he did this right, Aziraphale would think he’d read something. It would be happy endings all around.

“An author needs feedback, dear boy,” the Angel prompted.

Done stalling, Crowley put his sunglasses back on, “I’m talking about the bit where you’re making heart eyes at the aubergine for ten pages.” Crowley smiled, and whether or not it reached his eyes was immaterial. They were obscured, but there was undeniable affection in his voice. The Angel might be adorable, but Crowley still had an image to maintain. Thinking quickly, he added with a smirk, “If I had known about the intensity of _that_ particular preference sooner I would have tried to tempt you that way.” He couldn't help but tease him about it a little. After all, who made heart eyes at an aubergine? It was oddly endearing. “Back in the Garden, if I were sent there to tempt you I would have expected more success with a peach or something similar. Not an aubergine.” Crowley was entirely oblivious to the innuendo laden nature of that statement. “I suppose this is the point where I should ask you out to dinner?” He said, as he made a gesture meant to encompass the bookshop, Aziraphale, himself, and the fact they had thought the world would end not that long ago. “Before all this? I would have been happy to just stay here, maybe open a nice bottle of wine. Then the world almost ended and…”

Crowley wasn’t comfortable with this much vulnerability. He wasn’t comfortable with any vulnerability, but he couldn’t leave this unsaid. The memory of fire and cracking timbers, and a tornado of flame roared in his memory. Crowley moved on from those thoughts as quickly as possible, and kept talking. “Why wait if it’s something we both want to do?” Crowley knew it was technically his turn to pick the restaurant but he was happy to go with whatever Aziraphale wanted. It wasn’t actually about the food. He could admit that now. If only to himself.

“Oh?” Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley was reminded of just one of the many reasons he wore sunglasses. When the Angel got like this, it caused involuntary reactions in his eyes. And sometimes other places too, come to think of it. Crowley did his best to pay attention to what the Angel was saying.

“I had quite hoped you would feel that way, but I wasn’t sure...” Aziraphale seemed oddly emotional about Crowley’s support of his enjoyment of aubergines. But Crowley didn’t question it. He was a bit distracted right then. Even after all this time he had no idea how Aziraphale’s eyes were able to do... whatever it was they were doing right now. It was certainly something, that’s for sure. Oh, wow…that was… He hadn’t been expecting quite that reaction. Aziraphale was looking at him like he hung the moon. No, not the moon. Or like he was some sort of expertly prepared desert. Crowley would never grow tired of that look. Never.

Thankfully, his own eyes were safely hidden behind dark lenses. The Angel had no reason to suspect just how round Crowley’s pupils were getting right now. It was better that way. The last thing he needed was to have his eyes give him away. He would enjoy what he was given. It wasn’t worth ruining what they already had.

Speaking of things being ruined, Aziraphale’s bowtie was slightly crooked and it was bothering Crowley. He reasoned that being cautious was all well and good, but maybe caution could be made to include appreciating the opportunities when he saw them? Taking full advantage of the plausible deniability of the situation, Crowley lazily reached out to fix the offending article of clothing. 

Aware the Angel seemed unusually nervous for some reason, Crowley made sure to move more slowly than usual. He’d tried to make it look natural butended up looking a bit too snake like. Oh well, the point was to give Aziraphale ample time to retreat. Despite his best attempt not to seem too forward, Crowley had somehow managed it anyway. He stayed completely motionless for a moment after his fingers accidentally brushed against Aziraphale’s neck. When the Angel made no move to pull away, Crowley moved closer to get a better view of what he was doing. It was just a better view in general, really. He almost forgave the bowtie for being tartan because it had been kind enough to provide such a convenient excuse.

Crowley did his best not to meet the Angel’s gaze. Those eyes were so beautiful he thought he could forget his own name if he looked into the for long enough. He could forget everything. It had actually happened to him once. But it helped set off a century long bout of depression. Nothing quite like remembering the Fall after finally, _finally,_ being able to forget for a moment to make a person want to sleep forever. That was almost worse than the actual thing. Also, if he looked into those eyes for too long, he started to worry he might be corrupting the Angel somehow. So he let himself look, but not too long, and not too close. Because if it was true, and eyes really were the window to the soul, it wasn’t worth the risk. So instead he let his eyes linger on the Angel’s mouth this time. And his neck…Mostly he tried to focus on the bowtie. Tried being the operative word.

“I wasn’t certain how you’d react.” Aziraphale admitted, seeming oddly shy about it all. “Now that you know...” Aziraphale trailed off and started fidgeting slightly. He was also not-so-subtly trying to get a look at Crowley’s eyes through his sunglasses. It was always like that with the Angel. But he wasn’t even being particularly subtle about it this time.

Of course, that made it even more difficult to fix the annoying, stubborn, tartan bowtie that his beautiful, stubborn Angel was so fond of wearing.

“Of course. I’d love to. Anytime, just say the word.” Crowley hissed slightly on parts of words, but apparently bowties didn’t scare as easily as plants. He gave another, more prolonged hiss of irritation, but only noticed he was doing so after he felt Aziraphale’s pulse speed up slightly.

This was ridiculous. There was nothing for it. The bowtie was a lost cause. He’d have to start over. He wasn’t about to concede defeat to a weirdly shaped piece of fabric. Crowley’s tongue briefly poked out of his mouth in concentration but hopefully he had noticed it before doing anything too snake like.

The Angel leaned closer, which might have made the process easier, except for the part were it brought that angelic smile close enough to kiss. And he wanted to. Oh did he ever want to.

Finally succeeding at undoing the bowtie, Crowley smiled at his accomplishment. He was unaware of how this looked from where Aziraphale was standing and he was even less aware of the effect his next remark would have. “What were you expecting me to say? After all, you must have noticed how much I enjoy watching you eat.” he took the opportunity to remove the bowtie entirely. “You should see the way you look the moment you get a taste of something you've been particularly craving.” Crowley absentmindedly ran his tongue over his lip, he had this irrational worry it would end up forked someday if he got too distracted. It had never happened before but it was the result of nightmares about getting stuck as a snake. He was a little confused about why Aziraphale was giving him such a strange look all of the sudden, but other than that everything seemed normal.

Smiling to himself, Crowley tucked the bowtie into his own back pocket. He’d considered throwing it across the book shop and hoping it got lost in all the clutter, but changed his mind and decided to keep it instead. Just for a little while. He would probably give it back after a few days of Aziraphale looking adorably affronted by his bowtie-less state, but until then he planned to carry it around with him like they were back in the Victorian era and let himself indulge in the fantasy that it was some weird token of affection the Angel had bestowed upon him. He was still carefully avoiding the Angel’s eyes but his train of thought meant his eyes were lingering on those lips of his.

Crowley realized he’d accidentally brought his hands back up as if to undo the buttons on Aziraphale’s shirt and he couldn’t think of a way to explain his way out of this one. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, hands frozen, like they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to and couldn't decide if they should turn themselves in or try to run away.

Crowley startled at the feeling of Aziraphale’s hand on his chest. That was unexpected. He’d been bracing for some sort of reaction to his mistake, but this wasn’t it. It was safe with his glasses on. He could look, nothing would happen. Nothing ever had. Looking away from the Angel’s lips, he tried to make sense of the other’s expression. The Angel’s eyes were full of...something. But Crowley didn’t dare put a name to it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He didn’t mind. The Arrangement had already become something more than he’d ever dared hope.

The hand Aziraphale had placed on Crowley’s chest slowly traveled it’s way upwards, along his neck, traced the curve of his ear, and then before he could figure out what was happening, Aziraphale was gently removing Crowley’s sunglasses. That was hardly fair, but he was almost more impressed than annoyed. The Angel really could be a bit of a bastard sometimes. But this was an old argument he didn’t feel like getting into again. Not if he was already agreeing to take the Angel out to eat at some awful place where the food was mostly vegetables.

“If you want to go to a restaurant so badly, you’re going to have to give those back. Otherwise we won’t be going anywhere. I know the Bentley and I have done some amazing things, but even I have to be able to see what I’m doing with the the girl. And I’m not taking the glasses off when we get there either.” Crowley knew Aziraphale meant well, but it was complicated. Explaining it would be impossible. He held own his hand impatiently. Things had been nice and he didn’t wan this to ruin the night.

“I know what your going to ask, but we’ve been through this before and it’s always the same answer. I’m wearing my glasses or we stay here. You might not care, but the humans will.” Unwilling to let things go any further down that particular path, he returned to the initial subject. “I really had no idea you enjoyed vegetables so much. Do you know I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a salad? Don’t really know why you’d want to. Give me a choice between rabbit food and a rabbit and I’ll pick the second one any week of the year.”

At that particular moment, Crowley’s eyes were still closed, as he was still waiting for the Angel to return his glasses. And to help hide the size of his pupils. He couldn't help it. He’s gotten into the habit over the years of putting a certain _effort_ into his appearance and this happened sometimes. Those lips had been close enough to kiss while he fought with that bowtie. His eyes tended to be the first noticeable sign he showed so unless he had his glasses, he was keeping his eyes closed until he felt like his pupil shape wouldn’t give him away.

This meant he missed the parade of different expressions that crossed Aziraphale’s face as the Angel imagined Crowley swallowing a rabbit whole, while also realizing that two of them had been having entirely different conversations. Of course, the mental image of one of Crowleys less...table friendly eating habits should have been unsettling, but he’d been aware of this for quite some time even if he’d never witnessed it. Was it really such a surprise that he now found himself wondering how _exactly_ the muscles of Crowley’s throat worked? It might not be entirely human and that was.... well it was certainly a thought, wasn’t it? But it seemed like it was a thought he’d have to return to later. The sooner he cleared things up the better.

“Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale sounded oddly contrite. Figuring his eyes had been closed long enough to provide plausible deniability, Crowley opened his eyes and was immediately suspicious.

“What? Why are you looking at me like I did something stupid but kind? That’s your job. You don’t see me going around handing out flaming swords to people just because they might be cold.” Maybe that was a little harsh, but Crowley felt like he was being laughed at. That feeling became reality seconds later when Azriraphale burst out laughing, and then had the gaul to try and muffle the sound in Crowley’s shoulder.

Crowley supposed the feeling made up for the laughter to some extent, “An explanation would be nice.”

Aziraphale laughed harder.

“Oh, yes. Glad to be of amusement. Go on, take your time.” He’d meant to sound sarcastic but fell embarrassingly short.

“Dear boy, the eggplant emoji…” Aziraphale was still struggling not to laugh, and he couldn’t quite manage to finish the sentence.

“Yes we’ve established-” by this point, Crowley was ready to write the whole thing off and get in an argument instead. Even though his eyes were open now Aziraphale still found a way to startle him so badly he hissed involuntarily and it’s possible his hair attempted to puff up slightly. He hadn’t been expecting to have the Angel’s incredibly soft fingers gently placed over Crowley’s lips. The demon could feel his brain short circuit.

“Shhh, please let me explain before you say something to start me laughing again. I’m quite sorry about that, by the way.” Aziraphale didn’t look particularly sorry but his fingers were no longer covering Crowley’s lips and had instead begun to make their way slowly down the side of his neck and were now dancing lightly across his collar bone. Crowley didn’t think he could speak coherently if he tried.

Crowley shivered slightly as the Angel reluctantly stepped back. Impulsively, Crowley grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. It was oddly reassuring. He had the feeling he was about to learn something he hadn’t known, and he wasn't comfortable with other people knowing things he didn’t. What you didn’t know could hurt you quite badly when you were a demon. He’d actually been on his way to the continent in question when he heard that song by Toto for the first time. He didn’t know if it would have actually done anything but no one was volunteering go find out either. Staying up to date with humanity was synonymous with staying alive for Crowley. The idea there could be some unknown significance to pictures of foodstuffs was genuinely frightening. Crowley’s face must have shown some of this because Aziraphale squeezed his hand slightly, bringing him back from his own thoughts.

“As I was saying. Humans are so very clever, and have been rather fond of certain types of drawings since before they had letters.” Aziraphale was smiling fondly at someone. It might have been Crowley but it might have been humanity in general? “Do you remember those pictures they used to leave on the walls of caves?”

He did, but he wasn’t sure he understood. “Are you telling me the aubergine is actually a bison? Or are they trying to invoke it’s powers or what? I know you loved those things but that’s just because humans hadn’t invented books yet.” Crowley found himself smiling at the memory despite himself. “How many times did i let you drag me to that lascaux place because they’d added a new cow drawing since the last time we saw it?” Crowley had forgotten he wasn’t wearing sunglasses, or he might have done a better job hiding the fondness in his eyes.

“Not the animals, dear. The other ones?” Aziraphale waited.

Something clicked in Crowleys brain “Angel, _what exactly_ did you think i was suggesting?” Whatever had just fit into place in Crowleys mind could not be correct. If it was then he can’t have heard anything Aziraphale said correctly because that would mean....

“Why don’t you tell me?” Aziraphale’s eyes were entirely too mischievous to be properly angelic but he never was much of a proper Angel to begin with. Conspiratorially he whispered, “And just so you know, it’s not limited to just the aubergine.”

“What you’re saying is that theses emoji are actually a whole kind of other language?!? Is it based primarily around foodstuffs?” Crowley waits until Aziraphale confirms that part, and prompts him to continue “And these things aren’t actually what they are, because they represent things that are … _other_ things?”

“Aren't humans wonderful?” Aziraphale says as if the whole thing is charmingly quaint.

“And _you_ know about this?!?” Crowley was supposed to be the modern one. Aziraphale said things like... like... _tickety-boo_!

“Yes! It seems rather obvious really. You have the eggplant and then you’ve got the peach and if you start adding the raindrops to it…” Aziraphale realized Crowley was getting that panicked look again “Oh, dear. That’s not good.”

Aziraphale knew that look. He’d seen it a lot after the Spanish Inquisition and even more recently, ever since the world nearly ended. It was a look that said Crowley was replaying every interaction he could remember for signs that something had gone wrong.

“You really needn’t worry, dear. You told me yourself that they don’t even know how to phone properly. My people don’t even know about texting. You said your side just takes over whatever’s station is on at the time.” He gave Crowley a reassuring pat on the shoulder, “No, theres no need to panic. I think we’re still the first two of our kind to catch on. Deep breaths. There we go. You’re doing wonderfully. Do you want your sunglasses back?”

Crowley shook his head and waved away the offered sunglasses, instead he took Aziraphale’s bowtie back out of his pocket and stared at it. Finally he looked away from the bowtie and into Aziraphale’s eyes. Calmly. Too calmly, he asked, “Did i just suggest what I think I did without realizing it?”

Aziraphale nodded in the affirmative. He looked like he might start laughing again soon, but had the decency to feel bad about it.

Crowley looked utterly scandalized, “And you agreed! You did! I heard you! I was there when you said it! And then I...” Crowley trailed off for a moment and looked at the bowtie in his hand like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. This was quite an accomplishment for said bowtie, considering just how many centuries of things he’d seen by then.

Aziraphale ran his hand along the line of Crowley’s jaw, prompting him to meet the Angel’s gaze. Once he had Crowley’s attention again, Aziraphale did something he’d wanted for several thousand years and nestled his fingers in that familiar red hair. He leaned forwards, closer then they’d ever been before, and whispered, “Now that we understand each other, I was wondering if you would still like to make good on that offer? If that particular craving of mine was one you still felt like indulging? I seem to have worked up quite the appetite, and you were just telling me how much you enjoyed watching me eat.” Aziraphale decided to use absolutely everything he remembered of what he’d learned from Oscar Wilde. With that in mind, he very deliberately let his eyes wander across every inch of currently exposed skin. The loose fitting shirt Crowley was wearing meant there was rather a lot of it. Once he was done, he let his gaze linger on Crowley’s lips. Crowley leaned intoAziraphale’s touch, and gave an involuntary shiver when the Angel began slowly ruining the demon's carefully styled hair with those well manicured fingernails.

In the back of his mind Crowley wondered when, exactly Aziraphale had learned to do this, and he didn’t know whether to be jealous of or thankful to whoever he learned it from. It didn’t matter. There were better things to focus on at the moment, and he would most certainly be making an effort in that direction. His eyes were completely gold  had gone completely circular and he didn’t even try to keep from hissing anymore. He needed to answer before the Angel completely turned him into an incoherent, but extremely happy pile of this odd, fluttery, melting feeling, “It would be my pleasure, Angel.” Crowley's hissing was quite pronounced at that point.

Stepping back, Aziraphale beamed at him. It was, unsurprisingly, radiant. “Temptation accomplished!” Aziraphale proclaimed, and then snapped his fingers.

They both startled and at least one of them made a truly undignified noise when, quite abruptly, the entire building seemed to almost trip over itself in a hurry to closed up shop. Blinds that may or may not have existed before closed themselves, the Closed sign did a full 360 before hanging back in the door. It still read CLOSED in big letters, but somehow felt more insistent about it. And most startling of all, several rare first editions slammed themselves closed with enough force to possibly damage the binding, and flew onto nearby shelves. One nearly hit Crowley in the head on it’s way there.

Unsure how to react, both Angel and demon stared at each other in startled silence for several moments. Simultaneously, they began to laugh. And they kept laughing, even as they struggled to undo belts and buttons and other bits of clothing.

Six thousand years. It had taken them six thousand years, and the end of the world to get here.

Everything about this was ridiculous. He loved it. Crowley buried his hands in those blond curls, let his mouth explore Aziraphale's neck. In less than a minute, they had somehow managed to knock over a lamp, step on Crowley's sunglasses, and get Aziraphale's sleeve caught in the zipper of Crowley's pants, all before they even reached the sofa. Neither of them could stop laughing. He couldn't believe it. He'd gone through six thousand years and the end of the world to get to this moment! Crowley couldn't think of anything more perfect than this. He didn't remember much about heaven, but he knew nothing could ever be better than this. They had an eternity of absurd moments like this to look forward to. And his absolutely beautiful angel was laughing and smiling in his arms and he was completely, unapologetically in love. Everything was perfect. All he'd ever wanted was right here, in his arms, on a sofa in a bookshop in Soho. And there was no where else he'd rather be.


End file.
